Queen Hanna's Face-Sitting Regimen Before Showering
Queen Hanna's slave lay on the cold, hard floor all night long. It wasn't a luxurious arrangement, but it was clear that a loser like him didn't deserve any special treatment. The next morning, the lady of the house prepared to use and humiliate her slave once again. She casually walked up to him, wearing nothing but a towel around her wavy blonde hair. "Rise and shine, slave," she said with a smirk. "It's time for your morning routine."
She motioned for the slave to get up, and he did so stiffly, still sore from the previous night's punishments. Queen Hanna stood before him, her perfect body glistening with a light sheen of sweat. "Today," she told him, her voice cold and commanding, "you will learn the importance of inhaling my scent. You will breathe deeply when you can, and struggle for air when you must."
With that, she climbed onto his back and straddled him, her plump bottom settling comfortably into the small of his back. She leaned forward, her hands planted on the floor on either side of his head, and lowered her glistening pussy towards his face. "Now," she purred, "you will learn the true meaning of facesitting."
The slave tried to protest, but the words caught in his throat as Queen Hanna pressed her pink lips against his. He struggled to breathe, feeling the weight of her heavy breasts pressing down on him. He could feel her hot breath against his neck, and the sweet scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. She held him there for what felt like an eternity, her body shuddering with pleasure as she rode him like a beast of burden.
Finally, she pulled away, leaving him gasping for air. She stood up, her hands on her hips, and surveyed her work. "Not bad, slave," she said with a satisfied smile. "But there's one more thing you need to do before you can call it a day." She motioned for him to stand up, then led him into the shower.
Under the pounding spray of the water, Queen Hanna continued her humiliation. She stood before him, her body slick with water and her face beaded with droplets. "Now," she said, "you will clean me. Every inch of me must be licked clean, or you'll be punished further."
The slave did as he was told, his tongue tracing the contours of her body as he cleaned her. He could feel her gaze boring into him, weighing him down with shame and arousal. When she was finally satisfied, she stepped out of the shower and dried off. She turned to him, her expression dark and menacing. "Remember this," she said, her words dripping with venom. "From now on, this is your new routine every morning before the shower. You are nothing but my personal toilet brush."
With that, she walked out of the bathroom, leaving him alone to ponder his miserable existence.
